threshold of our new home.
He placed me on my feet and I smoothed my skirts. His brothers were assembled inside, chuckling at my reaction.
“It’s quite proper for a man to take his new wife over the threshold of their new house,” Phillip explained. “Did you not know that tradition, Pearl?”
I held my chin high. “I know little of the ways of married folk,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll learn Aaron’s right quick,” he murmured, and he laughed at his own joke. Aaron’s eyes narrowed on him though his eyes twinkled playfully, and Samuel’s lips twitched. Matthew was far too busy scurrying around the cabin, looking at everything.
“Look at the table!” he said. “Look, Pearl, it looks like it’s brand spankin’ new. And you have curtains! Just look at ‘em, pretty as a picture.”
I smiled at his enthusiasm, following him around the neat little cabin, as the menfolk looked upon such things as the woodpile, the chimney, and the latch on the door, as of course Aaron’s concern was to make sure we were locked up tighter than a drum. It was cozy and warm, and I just loved it.
The doorway opened to a small kitchen. We didn’t have a stove like ma did, as stoves were hard to come by and quite expensive, but I had a wide open hearth to the right of our table upon which I could cook and bake, and already a large cast-iron pot hung over the fireplace. In front of the fireplace a rocking chair nestled, across from a higher, straight-backed chair. I smiled to myself, imagining what it would be like to nestle into that chair, my knitting in my hands, or rocking a newborn baby. Beyond the fireplace and table was a second door, and I followed Matthew as he opened it.
Here would be our bedroom. It was a simple, clean, neat room with a large bed in the center and the frame nestled upon wooden beams. To my surprise, a tiny desk and another chair stood against one wall, an unusual but not unwelcome fixture in the little room. A small window adorned with a neat red-checked curtain gave a little light, and a quilt was already atop the bed, neatly made and tucked in, smoothed over. I flushed when I thought of lying in the bed with Aaron. I quickly stepped out of the bedroom, taking in the small house again. A ladder led to a loft, and when I stepped back I could see that the loft was empty. It would work well for a guest bed and, eventually, children.
It was simple. But it was clean. And it was home.
* * *
Aaron went with his brothers to tend to the livestock and our land, and I was left to my own devices. There was a trunk in the kitchen, and I knelt before it and opened it in Aaron’s absence, removing a few blankets and other household things that would prove quite useful—soft knit cotton cloths for kitchen use, a set of sharp knives, a dark brown tablecloth, a hand-woven basket for bread, a few tin cups, carved wooden plates, and forks and knives. Someone—ma, I presumed—had known Aaron would be setting up house, and had likely hoped eventually he would set up house with a wife. I smiled to myself, fingering the items. Each had been lovingly made, or given to us from her own meager possessions. I couldn’t think of a better way to begin our new life together than surrounding ourselves with items from his mother. I’d felt more welcome and at home in the short time I was in this cabin than I had in the entirety of my existence at the Fitzgeralds.
I looked around the cabin and took inventory of what we had for food. I surmised they hadn’t wanted to put up many stores, not knowing when Aaron was returning home, and had likely brought them over just today. A few jars of preserves and a butter dish sat on a shelf near the table in the kitchen, and I found a tiny room that looked like it functioned as a pantry behind where the chairs lay by the fire. I flitted from one thing to the next like a child, taking it all in, hardly processing everything around me. Inside the little pantry were
He placed me on my feet and I smoothed my skirts. His brothers were assembled inside, chuckling at my reaction.
“It’s quite proper for a man to take his new wife over the threshold of their new house,” Phillip explained. “Did you not know that tradition, Pearl?”
I held my chin high. “I know little of the ways of married folk,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll learn Aaron’s right quick,” he murmured, and he laughed at his own joke. Aaron’s eyes narrowed on him though his eyes twinkled playfully, and Samuel’s lips twitched. Matthew was far too busy scurrying around the cabin, looking at everything.
“Look at the table!” he said. “Look, Pearl, it looks like it’s brand spankin’ new. And you have curtains! Just look at ‘em, pretty as a picture.”
I smiled at his enthusiasm, following him around the neat little cabin, as the menfolk looked upon such things as the woodpile, the chimney, and the latch on the door, as of course Aaron’s concern was to make sure we were locked up tighter than a drum. It was cozy and warm, and I just loved it.
The doorway opened to a small kitchen. We didn’t have a stove like ma did, as stoves were hard to come by and quite expensive, but I had a wide open hearth to the right of our table upon which I could cook and bake, and already a large cast-iron pot hung over the fireplace. In front of the fireplace a rocking chair nestled, across from a higher, straight-backed chair. I smiled to myself, imagining what it would be like to nestle into that chair, my knitting in my hands, or rocking a newborn baby. Beyond the fireplace and table was a second door, and I followed Matthew as he opened it.
Here would be our bedroom. It was a simple, clean, neat room with a large bed in the center and the frame nestled upon wooden beams. To my surprise, a tiny desk and another chair stood against one wall, an unusual but not unwelcome fixture in the little room. A small window adorned with a neat red-checked curtain gave a little light, and a quilt was already atop the bed, neatly made and tucked in, smoothed over. I flushed when I thought of lying in the bed with Aaron. I quickly stepped out of the bedroom, taking in the small house again. A ladder led to a loft, and when I stepped back I could see that the loft was empty. It would work well for a guest bed and, eventually, children.
It was simple. But it was clean. And it was home.
* * *
Aaron went with his brothers to tend to the livestock and our land, and I was left to my own devices. There was a trunk in the kitchen, and I knelt before it and opened it in Aaron’s absence, removing a few blankets and other household things that would prove quite useful—soft knit cotton cloths for kitchen use, a set of sharp knives, a dark brown tablecloth, a hand-woven basket for bread, a few tin cups, carved wooden plates, and forks and knives. Someone—ma, I presumed—had known Aaron would be setting up house, and had likely hoped eventually he would set up house with a wife. I smiled to myself, fingering the items. Each had been lovingly made, or given to us from her own meager possessions. I couldn’t think of a better way to begin our new life together than surrounding ourselves with items from his mother. I’d felt more welcome and at home in the short time I was in this cabin than I had in the entirety of my existence at the Fitzgeralds.
I looked around the cabin and took inventory of what we had for food. I surmised they hadn’t wanted to put up many stores, not knowing when Aaron was returning home, and had likely brought them over just today. A few jars of preserves and a butter dish sat on a shelf near the table in the kitchen, and I found a tiny room that looked like it functioned as a pantry behind where the chairs lay by the fire. I flitted from one thing to the next like a child, taking it all in, hardly processing everything around me. Inside the little pantry were
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